Moments in Love: Dancing
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Lisbon bringing more heat to their relationship has a strong effect on Jane. I thought there would be more story to this, lol, but it turns out to be a love-fest. But they discover and try something new. Two chapters. Warning! Adult sexual situations. If you don't like that stuff, don't read this. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.
1. Dancing In

Patrick was still getting accustomed to being so openly carnal. Many years of celibacy made a relatively comfortable pattern. At least, one he had been used to. When he and Teresa finally got together, they went easy. There was so much to learn about how each lived a personal life, but he took great care in the initial weeks to allow room for them to get used to living with each other. It was important to develop everything about their lives, not just sex.

Sex was cement for the love in their hearts, carefully applied until they were fully fitted together. It was their unique adventure. Now almost intrepid, they sought the depths of sexual expression, scaling the heights of gratification. Love had become confident ground ready to be embellished until they'd reached the edges.

Patrick didn't see that happening soon. Teresa was only beginning to soar, really for the first time in her life. For him, she had opened an ocean of desire. His nature, dammed for so many years, powered massive new currents with his new mate. When he wasn't actually engaged in the act, his smoldering, subterranean mind was filled with their latest experiences and fantasizing about new ones. Lately, those usually involved Teresa's newly discovered penchant for lingerie. He was captured, captivated, besotted.

Dinner was cleared and Jane stretched on the couch in front of the television, letting his happily satisfied stomach settle. Lisbon, finished with her shower, came out in a sports jersey, her favorite thing to sleep in, pretty little legs hurrying to join him. He tried peeking to see if she was wearing panties, but she moved too fast, her back flopping onto his chest as she stretched out her legs. He'd check about the panties later. For now, he lazily rubbed his hand on her tummy and kissed her head. She snuggled into him. The scent of Teresa's shampoo wafted around his head, and he enjoyed the dampness of her drying hair, flung across his chest and shoulders where she had flipped it from under her back.

When he closed his eyes, he remembered watching her, just so in her jersey, dancing to the Spice Girls, a table scattered with a gun, pills and liquor, to trap the man who was framing her for murder. He'd always been sure she made that show just for him on his spy perch up the stairs. Dr. Carmen certainly wasn't there yet.

It was the first real awakening of his lust for her, and one he was sure, even then, she deliberately kindled. Her swiveling swaying hips carried her sumptuous rump with them, dancing the length of the room. Wagging her tail at him. Who else? It was a terrible tease and left him very uncomfortable in his trousers on his hidden perch. It told him what she really wanted from him. Something he couldn't give.

The night's events deflated the lust in both of them. But he knew he could have had her that night. She was waving him in, all bare legs and rolling hips. He had come to love the jersey as much as the scanty teddies and other sexy night things she had been bringing home. It certainly had equally valuable charm.

Teresa was gorgeous living art, changing her frame at will. Sexy lingerie was a feminine flag of infinite design that any man could read. She wore a succession of dainty, revealing, scanty, sheer and alluring nightwear. The kind that dared Patrick not to put his fingers on it. Not to undress the woman underneath. Dared him not to take her a thousand times. Drive himself into her, fill her with the living stream from his body.

As if he needed further incentive than her presence in any room. She added it for savor and because it made her feel beautiful in a way she'd never allowed herself. She added it because she liked him to undress her, worship her body as he uncovered it. Like wonderful music, Teresa struck a sweet theme that filled his mind with the highest violins.

Although he tried to maintain his attention on the programs they were watching tonight, engage in Lisbon's comments and reactions, television was boring after about thirty minutes and Jane daydreamed instead, enjoying the feel of Lisbon's body pressed against him on the couch. Amused, he noted that she was a bit fidgety.

Teresa's emerald green teddy drifted into his mind. It was cut to cling to her like sweet icing, cut to expose her plump lips in front and the lower part of her plush bottom in back. She shaved herself, her rounded sex fat and blushing as a peach. Licking, sucking at her exposed labia, green satin parting them, he longed to split her open to sample her warm juices. The teddy unfastened wetly at the opening to her core.

When he savored her flesh he was buried in the scent of her peach body wash. Maybe that was why he thought of peaches when he looked at her. By the time she was abandoned and near climax her scent was peach and arousal, something common to all women, something specially Lisbon and ripe warm fruit. Everything became his mouth and tongue ravaging her succulent peach until she was breathless and moaning in rhythm with his movements.

She had kissed him back with her sex as she pressed the swollen lips and open mouth to his lips and tongue. His hand lightly wrapped his erection or he would have gone mad with the burning desire in its twitching granite flesh. He knew she wanted him to lick, nibble, perhaps even bite her, so he pushed her legs high and set his mouth and teeth on the base of her tender ass.

On the couch, Lisbon squirmed at the lump that kept forming and relaxing in the small of her back. If Patrick got any harder, he'd be drenching her ass in a minute. If he'd been fondling and kissing her all along, they would be making desperate love on the couch by now. But his thoughts had been held private so far.

"What on earth are you thinking about, Jane? Have you ever tried to relax with a softball pressuring your back?"

"Soft? Hmph! If I was soft, I wouldn't be bothering your back."

She snickered and pinched the side of his belly. "If I'd said baseball, you'd be arguing about size. We can stop watching TV and have a romp on the bed. But there's an entry fee."

Jane chuckled. "Uh-huh?"

"You have to tell me what keeps giving you that hard on."

"I need a shower first."

Jane took a quick shower and put on a lightweight tee shirt and lounge pants, planning a buzzing cuddle with Lisbon on the couch. Spice Girls music blared from the living room as he entered and he saw her dance by, enticing as her hips swiveled under her short jersey. To her delight, he joined her for several tracks, trailing after her and wiggling his butt. When he picked up the chorus, he sang along. Lisbon knew all the words and sang them with exaggerated feeling. They faced each other lip-syncing and pretending they were part of the band, Jane tapping his inner diva, before they started laughing too hard at each other's antics.

Jane was wound up and filled with the pleasure of dancing with his girl. But he wanted something harder, more demanding. Time for a change of music. He put on the Stones and launched into the most perfect Mick Jagger imitation Lisbon had ever seen.

She stared, laughing and covering her mouth in awe. "Wow! Jane! That looks great!"

He wore a blissful smile when he wasn't pulling Mick faces to go with his poses and movement. To his surprise, she jumped in and started copying his moves.

"Teresa! You're a quick study!"

They listened to several tracks of beat-pounding Stones music. Soon Lisbon was standing at his side, copying the sequence of moves he kept repeating so that she could learn them. Then he broke from her, mixing up the moves and tossing in new ones. Lisbon improvised, too. They took turns doing Mick Jagger claps, hands on their hips, strutting forward and reverse, making Mick grimaces in changing combinations.

When they were out of breath and sweaty, they stood facing one another and laughing. Neither had enjoyed such play in a long time. The dancing and their admiration for one another created sexual heat, too.

Lisbon looked him over, sleek hips and massive shoulders. His hands brushed his thighs, tightening the thin stretchy fabric over his genitals, loosening it. Tightening. Loosening. He was aroused, stiffening as she watched. Approaching him slowly, she put her hands on his hips and stretched for a light kiss. Then she stepped back. Jane waited quietly to see what she would do with the spell she was casting.

Not speaking, looking only at what she was doing, she lifted the hem of his tee shirt and tucked her fingers into the elastic waistband. When she tugged the front of his pants slowly down, his semi-erect penis popped out. She hummed low and shifted on her feet. The first sight of his beautifully formed male flesh always called her to let go. Lose control and eat him up or stuff him deep inside her. Sometimes she did. But now she moved slowly, pulling the waistband lower, gently lifting his balls forward to tuck the pants under them.

She didn't look at his face at first, but pet and fondled until he was fully hard, his erection moving into place like a telescoping lens. When she did look at him, it was with a full mouth and he was swaying on his feet. Grabbing his thighs to pull him closer, his feet straddled her legs and he bent a little to balance with a light grip on her shoulders. She tasted him all over, even carefully filled her mouth with his balls, and finished him off by laving and sucking on the sensitized head. He gasped loudly once and flooded her mouth until her chin dribbled his pearly juices.

"Aahh. That felt so good. I needed you that way, Teresa."

"I wanted you that way." She flashed him a wicked smile. "You need a good tongue-lashing once in awhile."

Pulling her up, he drew her into the kitchen and washed her face with a soft cloth. When he handed her a glass of water, she cleared her mouth by drinking.

Jane toyed with the curling ends of her hair. "We need to go dancing this week end."

"You think so? I haven't done much of that lately."

"Teresa, the way you pick up a dance step, the way you follow my lead, we'll be perfect!" He pulled her hard to his chest and growled in her ear, "You excite me, Teresa! Feel me!" Slipping his hips low, he ground himself on her sex and rolled against her until he stood tall again and pressed deep on her stomach, breathing heavily. "The thought of dancing with you takes all the sense out of my head. It's all in my heart and my loins."

Taking his hand, she pulled him towards the bedroom. "Come show me what it makes you want to do to me. Somehow, I think you'll convince me to go dancing."

She would go! "I love when you surprise me."

It was wonderfully true. He didn't know everything about her. Her lingerie stage was making his hair stand on end most nights and stealing his consciousness at any lull during the day. Where she hid her purchases he didn't know, didn't want to know. The surprise that set the match to his desire would be struck when she passed into his vision. But she was just as alluring stepping naked from a shower.

Last night he had caught her, shrouded like a goddess in cloud, pink bare feet carrying her flushed naked body towards him. Her hair fastened on top of her head, wisps and coils floated in the soft humid currents, breasts full and round, swaying as she approached, smiling at him. She saw the heat in his eye, his flesh make its first leap for her in his draping pajama pants. Her shapely hips made him spring to life, remembering how it felt to be inside them.

She had reached for a drape of white sheer that lay across the chair. But he was past that then and stayed her hand, catching it to draw her near. As she collided softly against him, her other hand was already wrapping him, erect, tantalizing her. Nothing could be better.

His life seemed to consist of confessions of desire now. "I just want to nail you. It's all I ever think about anymore."

"The same thing is happening to me, Patrick. All I think about is making love to you. Or the times we've made love. Or how I want to touch you. No one has ever made me feel as beautiful, as wonderful, as desirable as you do. If I tried to talk about my feelings, the incredible responses you draw from my body, I wouldn't even make sense. I'm glad we want the same."

He thought about these things as he made love to her tonight, watching her respond to him and confessing his erotic daydreams on the couch before they'd danced in the living room.

It was long and slow. He moved the ways she liked best, gently kissing her nipples. He caressed the sides of her breasts where she was so incredibly sensitive that she stilled and shivered, panting, the only way she could endure the exquisite stimulation.

Keeping her orgasm at bay, he felt her swell inside, clutching him. But he wouldn't release her, pulling gently back, stopping to nuzzle the sides of her breasts, kiss her neck, her sweet lips until he moved again, always in a different way, forcing her body to adjust anew. She didn't beg, whine or whimper, but told him she loved him, how good he was making her feel. He loved her for her receptive patience as he made her wait for the last time. A pleasant exhaustion filled him and he surrendered them both to the liquid heat flowing between them.

Glowing with passion under him, the need to breathe overwhelming her, she'd gasped, "What are you doing?"

Smiling, he was curious. "What does it feel like?"

"Like you're stirring me. I'm thick and . . . swollen inside and I grip you and . . . you're stirring me. . . like a wooden spoon . . . in . . . in a dense pudding."

"That's what I'm doing. Making pudding. Hot, thick pudding that holds my spoon so tight, I can't pull it out. You have the sweetest grip, my love. I never want to leave it, so I stay and stir until you release me."

The vibrations of breath through her chest were loose and deep when she came, a sound that filled the air with the harmonics of her voice. His senses were saturated with her when his climax hit and he swore there must be a heaven after all.


	2. Dancing Out

_**A/N I have no idea if such a dance spot exists in Austin.**_

"What are you going to wear?"

He suddenly looked warm and the sea green of his eyes almost disappeared as he waited, looking at her. Lisbon mentally went through her closet, sliding the few suitable dresses she had and found just the thing that would satisfy her - and that look in his eyes. No one had ever seen her dressed like that. A thread of heat ran through her like a seam of lava, daring her to blast Patrick with sexy.

Her eyes darkened like his and he knew she had decided. And it was something she knew he would like and would make her feel hot. He knew which dress it was!

"What kind of music?" Not ballroom, she hoped.

"Let's go for our oldies. 80's, 90's. Great dance tunes that make us remember what we loved when the world was open to us."

Then he saw her eyes crinkle, the lids languidly droop, her impish nose turn up and wiggle. She smiled at him, sultry. The tip of her tongue peeked briefly between her lips.

Jesus. There was only one dress it could be! "Let me bring you a gift . . . to wear with it."

"Gift? You don't know what I've chosen."

"Know? Not know. But watching you decide gives me a pretty good idea. If I'm wrong, you can save the gift for another time."

"I have no doubt you know every single thing I own, down to my socks and underwear."

He winked. "Mmmm-hmm. Every single thing. I'm especially partial to the bra and panty sets. You have beautiful taste, Teresa. No wonder you devastate me when you wear them."

"I still have some secrets. You don't know everything about me."

"Good. I can't wait for you to teach me."

Teresa loved when he dropped into a dreamy reverie about her. "Bring me your present. I'm sure I will love it, Patrick. Because if there's one thing you've taught me, it's that you know exactly how to dress me."

"I just appreciate your assets and want to look at them. Want you to feel how beautiful they are to me. Now more than ever, now that I've seen them intimately, I love them even more."

After their Saturday morning routines and a late leisurely lunch at the small table under the bright kitchen window, Jane left for a couple of hours. He returned in the late afternoon with a shallow embossed silver box, tied in a bow with a wide length of red satin. She peeked at the top of the box. The card was from a very exclusive lingerie shop. "For Teresa, My lady in red. U No Hoo."

She hadn't finished thinking, "Damn, he does know," before she was taking the box eagerly, one hand already starting to undo the bow. Parting flounces of silver tissue, she found red silk stockings, shimmery and sheer, and a garter belt the exact shade of her dress.

"Oooohhhhhh. They're beautiful, Jane, so sexy."

She lifted the stockings to drape carefully across her hand.

"But, but my dress . . . it's so short. When I dance, the skirt will bounce and wave and show the tops of my stockings and . . . and . . ." She looked up to see an actual leer on his face. "And the fastenings of the garter belt . . ."

"I certainly hope so. And I'll know that what everybody sees . . . is just for me. Will you wear them?"

"Yes," she breathed. "They're so perfect, so lovely, how could I not? And my dress will do the same whether I wear the stockings or dance with my legs naked. I'll wear them and know they are just for you."

Jane pulled her into his arms, crushing the box between them, and gave her a long tender kiss. Smoothing a hand along her hip, he undid her pants and slid a hand between her legs. She jutted her hips toward him. His long exploring finger parted her lips there and found her already slick. He removed his hand, kissed her again and let her go. "I'll remember you're already wet for me, too."

"If you keep this up, you'll drive me mad and we'll never make it to the club. And don't be so fresh! You could have asked me if I was wet. I would have told you."

"Not nearly as much fun - for either of us." He arched an eyebrow, reminding her that she had fully cooperated when he copped his feel.

He hoped the stockings and garter would keep her wet all evening and a deep shiver ran through him at the thought. They'd never make it through the evening. "Go ahead. Get ready! The cab will be here at 7:45. I'll use the shower in the little bathroom."

The Austin music scene was extensive, diverse and eclectic. The place they chose was known for its excellent 80's and 90's live band. A bit swankier than most, it boasted a well-stocked wine cellar as well as food, a regular bar and a large dance floor. It attracted a bit more upscale, sophisticated crowd than many of the music joints on Sixth Street. Jane asked for the wine steward when they entered, then took her aside. Lisbon assumed he was giving the woman his wine choices for the evening. Dinner was light. They stuck with a few appetizers. It made dancing so much more pleasant.

Lisbon was devastating. Her dress was a mid-thigh, flingy little red thing that shimmered in the low light, spaghetti straps rolling loosely on her shoulders, begging to be played with. She was braless and the fabric made the little points of her relaxed upturned breasts fascinating. The red garters clipped the lacy tops of the red stockings, dancing into view as her hem swung. Red ballerina flats finished her tiny feet, easy for dancing and giving a sweet buoyancy to her movement. Her hair swept past her shoulders, curling more and more as dance heated her body. Fringy bangs accented her large round eyes, green light shining from their depths,

Taking her to a corner of the dance floor during a band break, he spoke close to her ear. "You look like a ballerina tonight, a sexy ballerina. Small and beautiful. Graceful." Careful how he held her so not to make her uncomfortable by drawing her dress up in back, he pulled her close. Leading her slowly, his voice was soft and clear as he held his head against hers, singing the chorus of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer."

When he stopped moving, Patrick feathered her cheek with his fingers. "I love you, Teresa."

She looked at him, trembling. "I know. I can feel it. I don't think my heart can swell big enough to take it all in."

He kissed her, his lips warm and covering hers, plucking them with gentle suction, and then took her hand to walk back to the table.

Before he looked away, she said what was in her heart, too. "I love you, Patrick."

Grinning broadly, his eyes sparkling at her, he said, "We're so lucky."

"Yes. We are."

Putting an arm over her shoulder, he squeezed her close to his side and they returned to their table.

They made a beautiful couple, the little red dancer and her dashing, doting partner. Patrick's impeccable black suit showcased his beautiful form and deepened the red of Teresa's dress. On a crisp white shirt rode his skinny tie, a length of black silk. His hair was a riot of golden curls after the first few dances. They never stopped smiling, so flushed and happy together. Dancing with each other was a delight. and they hurried to the floor for all of their favorite numbers. They sipped wine carefully but managed to get into a second bottle, Pacing themselves, nibbling and dancing kept them mindful and upright while putting a warm twinkle in their eyes.

When Patrick left her for even a moment, he returned to at least one man, usually two, introducing themselves at the table and trying to get Teresa's number. He couldn't blame them for trying. In her ear, he told her she could pick any dance partner she wished, knowing she would come back to him. They danced almost exclusively with one another. Teresa did accept a few offers, only one dance apiece and only on the fast numbers. Jane chose other partners when she did. She was surprised at first, then even more surprised to find that she didn't mind. He was careful with his body, squelching any seductive vibe, and only danced with any woman once. Their eyes met frequently and she relaxed, knowing that they watched over one another. Jane would came to the rescue if anyone grew too bold or tried to take an extra dance. And she certainly would interrupt any woman who tried that with Patrick!

Lisbon shot him a "rescue me" look and he excused himself to be at her side in moments.

"Excuse me, I want to dance with my wife."

"Oh. Sure, man. Sorry. I didn't know." The man bobbed his head in a sort of acquiescence and backed away. "You're a very lucky man." He bobbed to Lisbon and she smiled graciously as he turned and left.

"Thank you . . . Husband." She smirked.

"It seemed the easiest way."

"It's not far off. You're the only one for me."

He kissed her, taking a little time with it. "I know. Me, too."

They let it lie like that for the night.

The next number was "their" song, 'More Than Words' by Extreme. Each of them smiled and sought the other for a kiss as they moved into place, tucking themselves together.

Jane's voice was low and full of emotion when he spoke into her ear. "I wanted to take you that night, make love to you until neither of us could speak." He swayed with her just as he had done at that high school reunion case.

"I told you, 'No funny business,' and you were a perfect gentleman. I'm glad I couldn't read your mind."

"Maybe you did. Maybe that's why you warned me off."

"I guess it's always been more than words with us."

"Yeah."

Neither spoke for the rest of the song, enjoying the words and each other, the feelings it brought. They kissed at the end, deep and long and lost until they realized the floor had cleared and people were watching them. They broke and smiled sheepishly. Jane held up his hand, grinning, and said, "Our song . . ." and people clapped as they left the floor.

Jane waved at the steward and she signaled with her fingers for him to come ahead. "Get your things and come with me. We probably won't have much time."

Confused but trusting him for another surprise, she did as he asked and took his hand as he led her to the wine steward.

"Hello, Mr. Jane. This way. No more than thirty minutes." She would really allow them forty if they needed it but cut it short to give them all some leeway.

Opening a heavy door with a key, she stood back to let them into a small wine cellar. "These are our most rare and expensive wines, so we don't have many calls for them on a given night. I'll knock when I return for you. You can turn the deadbolt inside for privacy."

"Thank you, Denise." He slipped a hundred-dollar bill into her hand and she left.

Lisbon saw the large oaken table and smiled slyly at Jane as he bolted the door. A delicious thrill of the clandestine and forbidden laced through her. "Come here much?"

Jane smiled and shrugged as he removed his jacket and offered it to her in the cool room. She shook her head.

"Courtesy, charm and money work the same everywhere." Suddenly unsure, his face was more serious. "I hope you don't mind this little oasis. I thought it would make the evening brighter if our . . . appetites . . . could be satisfied. Without having to leave early. Or make us desperately uncomfortable as we tried to dance through it." He paused and then his voice was raspy. "Like that last song . . ."

She smiled and blushed at the arrangements he'd made for them. "You think of everything to look after us. You're right. The way we've been lately . . . we'd never make it. Or we'd be . . . distracted and miserable." Deep desire was obvious in her look. "My blood is up. After our song, this is . . . well, it's perfect. Very cozy. Naughty. Do you want to be naughty with me, Patrick?"

"Oh, you don't know how much." He approached her slowly, bending to kiss her, then lifted her at the waist to seat her on a short end of the table. Her dress flounced up and then hid her garters. A flash of her panties showed barely a red string that pretended to cover the cleft of her sex.

Lisbon was already breathing hard when he slowly ran his hands up her thighs and fingered the tops of her stockings, watching her reaction. She put her hands on top of his shoulders and pushed down. He smiled and sank to his knees, pushing her thighs open for kisses and nuzzling, nipping the plump flesh that sat at the top of her labia, letting his tongue drift down for a teasing lick or two.

"Clever girl. You chose the perfect panties. We don't even have to undress you." He inserted a finger into the wet.

"No! Not yet."

Standing again, Jane looked at her, flushed, bright light reflecting from her dark eyes. Her nipples pointed desperately under the skimpy bodice of her dress, the spaghetti straps fallen to her arms. Taking each arm he brought it gently through the strap, brushing her skin with his wide hands and long fingers. The bodice fell to her waist, her full round breasts bare to him. She wanted him there and he obliged her, loving them, sampling every texture until her hips writhed and her legs reached to catch him. She marked his neck and bit his ear lobe.

Toeing the thick mat from the floor at the nearby sink, he sank to his knees in comfort this time. He slid her bottom to the edge of the table, pushed her legs apart to drape over his shoulders and went in like a ravenous wolf.

Closing his eyes, he let her rock against his mouth, focused on her clitoris, listening as excited breath lifted her soft cries. She yielded to the building sensation of his mouth and lay back on the table. Holding her hip with one hand, he let his other brush the side of her breast, lightly cupping, barely squeezing, sometimes dusting the nipple as she lost focus on him and her surroundings. He sucked and pulled gently but relentlessly on her flesh, riding the undulations of her hips, helping her to erase everything but the sensations they created together.

The world dropped away. They both relaxed into the dance of flesh. He held her lightly and stayed with her as they moved together, thinking of nothing but her pleasure and approaching orgasm. Nose squashing gently against her mons as her hips undulated, he held to her swollen bud. She abandoned her body to him and he took most tender care to follow her instinctive movements to ecstasy.

He focused on the tiny organ at his lips, how it changed moment to moment, hardening, slipping in and out of his mouth, feeling it travel his lips, his tongue as he latched on. Her fleshy lips flattened as she spread her legs wide so that she could feel everything he was doing without restricting or guiding him.

This was how he loved to experience her, wide open to him, vulnerable, trusting and reacting from her beautiful, pleasurable instincts until she was rocketing out of control. He hoped to make her forget he was even there, that there was anything other than the pleasure on and in her body. Red silk stockings made an unending susurrus, caressing his ears as they moved.

His cock ached like wood under the axe until he had to use a hand to finger his pants open, releasing the pressure of his unyielding erection while his mouth continued to ride with her. He wrapped his hand gently around it and fingered the head just as Teresa wailed, her breath in spasm as her core contracted. He freed her to her climax but slid two fingers quickly inside so she could clamp around them. When he applied his thumb to her vulnerable clitoris, it triggered another orgasm and this time he climbed onto the table with her, sliding her to the middle, jerking his pants and underwear out of the way to stab into her before she came down.

He loved to take her at this stage of combined satiation and arousal, soaking hot and swollen. She was open and ready, broken in enough that she wanted ramming. And that's just what he gave to her, his knees rubbing and painful on the hard table, pummeling her until he could feel all that open wet soaking his pubic hair from top to bottom. He angled downward to force the texture onto her clit while he rubbed the head of his erection on a spot that put her core into confusion, making her gasp and pull back like the wave of a tsunami. She was the ocean gasping in shock, then crashing as a tidal wave of sensation, coming with a shout, entwining their hands and digging her nails there.

He let go, awash in the overpowering wreck of her climax, his cock swollen, elongated and pumping semen from balls that had crawled up his shaft to rest on her heated sex. The relief, god, the relief to be gasping and buried, sharing the delirium of their intense lovemaking, feeling every inch of skin where they touched, vibrating and electric. He wanted to scream, he wanted to let his joy make him shout and laugh, but it was all too much in the trough of their relief. So he expressed his consuming love by whispering it and landing tender kisses everywhere he could touch. Lisbon moaned, taking in the love that minutes ago had brought her to a conflagration and now cooled her down, cradling her. They settled into answering sighs.

When he pulled out and stood on the floor, he looked at himself, gleaming, slick and red from responding to her tight core, the scent of their juices everywhere, evaporating in the cellar air. He touched himself and felt their heat.

"Do you have something to clean me? My panties are too tiny and my dress too short. I'll be dripping to the tops of my stockings." She pulled up the straps of her dress.

His heart skipped a beat at the intimacy of her request. Maybe she hadn't meant it that way, but she didn't stop him when he pulled the handkerchief from inside his jacket and instead of handing it to her, did as she asked, gently pressuring a knee out of the way. The soft cloth soaked their juices, as his graceful fingers moved to open the creamy seam of her flesh, catching what he could see. Rinsing the fine cloth at the sink, he washed her again, cooling skin as bright as a berry. Smiling, he tucked the damp hanky back into his pocket and slid the panty string into place over the cleft of her vulva. He shone with happiness as he lifted her down from the table.

She had watched the tenderness of his attentions, knew the loving source of it, and loved him. "Thank you." Her eyes were shy and she blushed, as fully aware as he of the intimacy that had just passed between them.

Next to the sink was a wall dispenser with spongy paper towels. Teresa wet a few, pumped soap on them and washed the table. "Let's go. I think we've used our time well." She gave Patrick a wink and a smile.

The steward acknowledged them as they passed back into the main room. Teresa gave her a shy, "Thank you," and a smile of pleasure.

The band started another slow dance and they stepped into each other's arms to savor the afterglow. Jane ordered wine from the exclusive cellar they'd enjoyed and winked at the steward when she brought the bottle. Appetites found, they ordered steaks, listening to the band as they ate. Bodies languid, bellies full, they finished the wine, held each other through two more slow dances and took a cab home.

They helped each other from their clothes. Patrick loosened her garters and took her stockings down, setting them carefully on the arm of a chair. Teresa put her fingers on black silk, undoing the knot of his tie and sliding it from his neck. Their particular delights satisfied, the two lovers crawled into their bed, snuggled close and went to sleep.


End file.
